


Under The Shield

by SpitfireRose



Series: Snapshots In Time [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: College AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, throwing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 17:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpitfireRose/pseuds/SpitfireRose
Summary: A very sick Prompto is rescued by Aranea who then summons his boyfriend to take care of him.





	Under The Shield

**Author's Note:**

> The sentence starter prompt of "I brought you a hot drink and a movie." as requested by anon. Hope you enjoy! (Also happy birthday to our favorite Cup Noodle-loving Shield).

“Your parents kinda suck.”

The back of a hand presses against his fevered forehead, nice and cool. Unable to feel any other comfort in a body that aches and burns to the congested core, Prompto leans heavily into the touch. The hand retracts and he about bursts into tears though uncertain why. Probably because everything hurts and he just wants it to stop. Groaning, he blindly leans after it and limply lolls his head against something warm and soft.

“Hey. Stay conscious.” The piece of heaven returns but not as kindly, firmly batting at a cheek until he sways back into sitting relatively upright before pitching forward with a wet belch as something’s pushed onto his lap. “Bucket’s right here, puke boy.”

That’s not his name, but whoever she is isn’t wrong as he doubles over as though actually puking his guts out. He should know the name that goes with the voice, she’s been talking to him since...since before he can really remember anything. Prompto’s pretty sure she borrowed his phone and talked more then, too, only more pissed the longer she had. It’d been a short conversation, anyway.

They always are with his parents.

But she’s nicer now, murmuring phrases he can’t make out for all the vomiting, roughly rubbing his back until his heaving subsides and doesn’t bother re-adjusting when his head finds her shoulder once more. Instead of lightly slapping his cheek, she drapes the limb across him and gently taps his arm.

“You’re dating that big jock guy, right? I’ll make him pick your sick ass up. What’s his number?”

“ _Yo’ve muh ‘one._ ” Prompto tries to remind her with a mumble, words nearly slurred as one followed by what sounds like his boyfriend’s number.

“Look, I’m just checking to make sure you didn’t lose your brains in that bucket. What’s his name?”

“ _Gla’io_.” His eyes sting beneath closed lids, nose streaming even worse as he bites his lip drenched in the salty taste. “ _Wan’ Gladio_.”

“Sshh, kid, I’ll get him for you.” She shifts to stand and he listlessly droops over into the vacant space, soon laying down on the nurse’s bench by her aid. A hand slips into disheveled hair, stroking a few times, lenient enough to let him drift off for just a moment.

* * *

 

Maybe it’s really a moment, an hour, or even a lifetime that passes by before blissful unconsciousness is disrupted by fast, heavy footfalls and a shout that sounds like his name before silenced by a threatening hiss. Whoever it is isn’t deterred, however, as they grow closer and the next Prompto knows is that there’s a large hand tenderly ruffling his hair.

“Shit, you really are sick.” A distinctively deep voice rumbles like distant thunder, and it takes every ounce of sapped strength to at least halfway crack an eye open. “Hey, baby. I heard you wanted me.”

The blurred image of Gladio comes into relatively recognizable focus, and Prompto whimpers for him while making a strained attempt to sit up before gently urged to lay back down. Nausea has him reeling like a ship in stormy seas, anchored by his boyfriend’s touch, and he opens both eyes in a squint.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here, Prom. I’ve got you.” Soft lips press lightly against his forehead, careful fingers brushing aside stray hairs drenched with sweat. “How about we get outta here?”

Managing the weakest of nods, he’s rewarded with another sweet kiss.

“That _is_ why I called, big guy.” The female’s voice drawls and Prompto attempts to peer past warm amber to the out-of-focus figure of silver and black. “Here’s his phone, glasses, and medicine the nurse prescribed. Go on, take him home.”

“I owe you one, Aranea.” Gladio has never meant anything more as he gingerly deposits possessions in his gym bag before slinging it back over a shoulder, fellow student merely shooing him off with a hand to get a move on already. “Hey, sweetheart, think you can handle being carried?”

It’s all he can do to reach out with limbs as heavy as concrete, boyfriend getting the message as he gently loops them around his neck. Aranea makes a comment of that’s how he’d gotten down here in the first place by her physical prowess, yet keeps observations to herself of how the ill blond practically melts into muscled arms as though belonging there and finding comfort within. He doesn’t care in the slightest how Gladio smells straight from training without shower, inhaling the scent with runny nose after curling inwards against his warm, sweaty chest in intimate familiarity. Prompto should really thank her for this and everything he doesn’t quite recall, but Gladio’s got him cradled in his arms, all nice and hot and everything his fever-chilled body needs. A disembodied voice that sounds an awful lot like his boyfriend murmurs that he can rest now, that he has him, and so he listens, easily lulled to sleep by a strong beating heart.

* * *

 

The next Prompto’s really aware of is being gently lowered onto a soft mattress followed by a kiss to the top of his head while settled beneath pillow. Curious, half-lidded blue peeks around in muddled delirium in attempt to place his surroundings, vaguely recognizing the dorm room as his boyfriend and his roommate’s. Watching Gladio move about the space from the bed, Prompto quietly whines when the big guy steps out for a moment, soon picking up the soothing sound of running water. Rolling over with a sigh developing into a fit of coughs, he nearly jumps at a large hand rubbing circles against his back before easing him into sitting up. A glass of water rests upon his bottom lip, prompting him to open his mouth and he wastes no time to sip down all he can.

“Got a nice hot shower going when you’re ready. It’ll make you feel better.”

“ _Nnnn.”_

“Hey, c’mon. I’ll let you wear one of my hoodies. Sweatpants, too.”

“ _Fuzzy blue one?_ ”

“Your favorite, of course. Already in there waiting for you.” Gladio can’t help the small chuckle at how he smiles, pure as sunshine despite being sick as hell. “You let me know if you need any help, okay?”

Prompto nods despite reluctance to leave one soft comfort for another, rising to his feet by aid of boyfriend making certain he’s steady before planting a kiss to his burning forehead first. It feels as though the big guy’s just as reluctant to let the blond go, holding on for just a moment longer before releasing.

* * *

 

The shower definitely helps.

He’s not certain just how long he stays under the warm spray, curled up at the bottom of the tub and letting it rain down. It’s so nice that Prompto could cry and might actually be, unable to tell for all the wetness, feeling slightly more human the longer he stays. At some point he stands back up, leaning against the cool tile beneath the showerhead, droplets streaming all the way from hair to toes. There’s voices, too hushed and disoriented by water to really make out even as he strains to listen.

Maybe it’s Gladio’s roommate.

Prompto doesn’t know him all that well, but hopes he isn’t mad.

Lingering for a few minutes more, he eventually shuts the shower off and sways out of the tub, naked body shivering as he hurriedly dries himself with a towel before slipping into fuzzy, oversized garments with all the coordination he possesses. They smell like him, feeling like a warm hug, and Prompto wraps his arms around himself. He’s still sick, can sense it lurking at the back of his mind like a beast lying in wait against wounded prey, but all he feels is tired and content, a welcome change from puking his guts out and dying until his boyfriend had come to the rescue.

He _really_ needs to thank Aranea.

* * *

 

“Go ahead and sit down on the bed, babe.” Gladio calls over from the kitchen area once he steps out of the bathroom, shambling over to the destination that’s changed slightly. There’s more blankets, one pink with flowers, and a laptop. Doing as he’s told, he’s soon joined by boyfriend with a mug held out for him. “I brought you a hot drink and a movie.”

Prompto accepts the herbal brew with trembling hands he tries to still to no avail, and soon the blanket is wrapped around his shoulders.

“Got it from Iris in a care package. Tea came from her, too.” He explains, pulling the device over to sit on the sick male’s lap. “I know you probably can’t smell anything, but I kinda smell, so I’m gonna go take a quick shower. Pick out whatever you want to watch and I’ll be right back.”

“ _G-Gladio_.”

“Yeah, Prom?”

“ _I-um.”_ His fever-addled brain doesn’t know how to put the words in order, to convey just how grateful he is as he’s patiently watched with such a tender expression. The tears he’s holding back just might do the trick, but the last Prompto wants to do is cry. _“Th-Thank you_.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. Taking care of you is the least I can do.” Maybe Gladio knows that he’s a hair trigger away from breaking apart, dipping down to kiss the top of his half-dry mess of blond. “It’s no trouble at all.”

It is. It _has_ to be.

“Ara came by with the homework you missed. Said she’s got Biggs and Wedge covering your store shifts as well. You don’t have to thank or pay them back them, either. All they want is for you to take it easy and rest.”

Prompto bites his bottom lip that quivers, blinking fast to try and quell the tears that threaten to spill. Gladio rubs one of his arms, squeezing lightly, staying as long as he needs before temporarily stepping out for a fast shower. Sipping slowly, he welcomes the burning sensation on his tongue, determined to get healthy as soon as possible as he even selects one of his favorite films. Returning soon as promised, Gladio joins him on the bed with even more blankets pulled over them both, nestled comfortably with ill boyfriend spooned against his furnace of a chest.

When the movie starts, however, Prompto rolls over and nuzzles his face within the warmth.

“You don’t want to watch, just want to sleep?” Gladio asks softly, already reaching to turn it off until he feels boyfriend shake his head.

_“‘s’fine. Helps me sleep._ ” Prompto mumbles quietly with a yawn, eyes closing. “ _Like someone’s there. Not alone_.”

He should ask what he means by that, heart aching as he retracts his arm to gently stroke into his hair, all the way down his spine and back up. Prompto’s snoring within seconds.

“You’re not alone, baby. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
